Chapter 20: Echoes of War

The world folded inward, crumbled, and shattered as Roderick's eyes slowly blinked open. The comfort of sleep's sweet darkness was replaced by the stark reality of a new day as his heart hammered against the confines of the rib cage. His dream, no, his memories, had been so vivid, so raw, that he could still taste the dust of the battlefield on his tongue and feel the sickening vibration of his magical swords, Ilira and Milovich, as they cleaved through armor and flesh.

Roderick sat up abruptly, soaked in a cold sweat. His chest heaved as he gulped down the early morning air, tainted with the fading scent of iron and fire from the dream. A grimace twisted his noble features, the horror of the memories he'd just relived temporarily making him forget his new identity.

In the quiet of his room, he could hear the faint hum of energy emanating from his swords. He looked down, his eyes widening as he noticed Ilira and Milovich suspended mid-air by his bedside. Like twin sentinels forged from moonlight, they hovered silently, their edges gleaming ominously. Roderick's subconscious mind, feeling threatened during the dream, had called them forth, and there they were, acting as guardians against an enemy that was no longer there.

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he touched Ilira's hilt. He could almost hear her laughter, see her fiery red hair billowing in the wind as they charged into battle together. His thumb traced the intricate enchantments etched into the hilt, each curve and line a testament to the life and valor of his fallen comrade.

The second sword, Milovich, had a heavier, denser aura. The enchantments were a complex web of defensive spells, reflecting its namesake's unwavering determination to protect. Roderick could feel the icy chill of the blade, just as he remembered the cold, lifeless hand he'd had received it from.

Each sword was an echo of the past, a painful reminder of the cost of war. But they were also a part of him, extensions of his will and power, of the man he once was, and the man he might one day have to be again.

His reflection stared back at him from the polished surface of the blades. His piercing eyes, the ones that had seen too much, were now filled with a mix of fear, regret, and a longing for peace. As he gazed into them, he was Alex and Roderick, a man lost between two worlds, grappling with memories that seemed almost too heavy to bear.

The swords gently dropped to the floor, their task completed. Roderick ran a hand through his chestnut hair, the reality of his current situation settling heavily on his shoulders.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the early morning sun cast long shadows across the room. A new day, another opportunity to seek answers, to uncover the conspiracy that led to the original Roderick's death, and perhaps, in doing so, find a way back to his own world.

With a heavy sigh, Roderick pushed off the bed, the weight of his dual life pressing against him. The horrors of war still lingered, like old scars aching at the touch, but they were also a reminder of the strength he'd found amidst the chaos.

The mirror across the room caught his image, tall and broad-shouldered. He stood there for a moment, staring at the reflection. His face was a mask of stern resolve, but his eyes betrayed the deep-seated turmoil within him. Shaking off the lingering effects of the dream, he walked over to his wardrobe. He selected a simple outfit, a plain white tunic and dark trousers.

As he dressed, the fabric whispering against his skin, the memories of the past continued to echo in his mind. He fastened a belt around his waist and sheathed Ilira and Milovich at his sides.

Stepping out of his room, Roderick made his way down the corridor, his footsteps echoing in the quiet morning. The academy was still asleep, the students and faculty locked in their dreams, unaware of the storm brewing in their dean's mind. He navigated the familiar hallways until he reached Thane's quarters.

Roderick knocked lightly on the heavy oak door of Thane's quarters. After a moment, the door swung open to reveal Thane, already dressed and looking as though he had been awake for hours. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were heavy with a tiredness that sleep couldn't relieve.

"Roderick," he greeted, his voice rough from disuse. "Couldn't sleep?"

"You could say that," Roderick replied, stepping inside. The room was comfortably furnished, a reflection of Thane's simple tastes. "I had a dream."

"About the war?" Thane asked, his voice heavy with understanding. He gestured to a pair of cushioned chairs near the fireplace.

Roderick nodded, sitting down in one of the chairs. He looked at Thane, at the man who had been his comrade in arms, his partner in this academy, and now his friend. "Yes, about the war. About Ilira and Milovich."

Thane's expression softened. "They were good soldiers. Didn't deserve what happened to them."

"None of us did," Roderick replied, his voice low. He looked at his hands, flexing them unconsciously. "The things we did... I sometimes wonder if we can ever atone for them."

Thane was silent for a long moment. "I think about that a lot," he confessed. "I still hear their screams, the people I killed. I try to justify it, say that I was just following orders. But that doesn't change the fact that I took their lives."

Roderick looked at Thane, saw the guilt etched deeply into his face. "We were soldiers, Thane. We did what we had to do to survive. To protect our people."

"Does that make it right?" Thane asked, his voice filled with anguish.

Roderick couldn't answer that question. He didn't know if he believed they deserved to live, if they deserved the peace they now had. He only knew that they were here, alive, and they had to make the most of it.

He ran a hand through his hair, finding it damp with perspiration. He tried to focus on Thane, on the matter at hand, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the dream, the memories, the guilt.

"Roderick," Thane said, his voice breaking through the fog in Roderick's mind. "Are you okay?"

"I... Yes, I'm fine," Roderick replied, shaking his head as if to clear it. "It's just... the dream. It was... unsettling."

Thane's gaze was like a physical weight, scrutinizing him with a keen, searching intensity. "We'll tackle your dreams later. Our immediate focus should be the pressing issue at hand."

Roderick nodded in agreement, a sigh slipping past his lips as he attempted to marshal his thoughts. "These past two days, my mind has been a tempest, wrestling with strategies and courses of action. Should we launch a direct assault on them? Or perhaps infiltrate their ranks and strike at their leaders from within? Maybe lure them into an ambush under some pretense?"

He paused, looking at Thane who had subtly leaned in, a silent testament to his rapt attention.

"But in the midst of all this strategizing, Elara's words have been echoing in my head," Roderick continued, his voice taking on a somber note. "Why did we establish the academy in the first place? Our vision was for peace, and yet here I am, planning to start a war." He spat out thelast sentence like an unsavory morsel that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

His eyes, lit with determination, met Thane's. "I've made a decision. If war is to come, we will stand ready. But we will not be its heralds. The weight of countless deaths already rest heavy on my conscience. Let someone else shoulder the guilt and resentment this time."

Thane's reaction was subtle, but Roderick, who had shared the weight of countless battles with the man, could discern the shadow of relief that flickered briefly in his old comrade's eyes.

"I... am glad to hear that." He paused, struggling with something Roderick couls somehow emphatise with.

"Great, now let's go find Elara, I have a few ideas." Roderick said clapping Thane on the shoulder.